Bittersweet Temptations
by Wonderstrucks
Summary: "What are you staring at?" "Nothing! Are you supposed to be my new roommate, Cleave Tarragon?" Clove Tarragon is tired of her all girls school. When she disguises as her runaway cousin and attends the male training academy, she meets Cato Vulcan, who notices something different about his new rommate. AU
1. Chapter 1

Well this is it.

Today's the day I, Clove Tarragon have been waiting to come for days now. Why? Because today's the day that I'm about to attend a new private training academy. It doesn't seem like a big deal at first, give that I was already going to a different one previously, you'd wonder why I would be transferring to _another _one. This time it will be much contrastive, and in fact the opposite. See, at my other school, the students were only girls. Now at the academy in which I'm about to step into is boys only.

Why would Clove Tarragon, a female, be attending a male training academy? It's quite simple actually. I've never felt like a girl. At my school, I was always getting in trouble with her teachers and even the principal several times. I was threatened to be expelled if I ever stepped another toe out of line, and that's when I hit my last nerve. One shouldn't be getting in trouble for violence at a _training _academy. We're training for the Hunger Games, for God's sake. It's not some prissy high school that was used in the olden days with cheerleaders and geeks and jocks, though you can see some of those social classes forming nonetheless. If this were in fact the past, I'd be the outcast at school—the rebel who everyone is afraid to talk to or just thinks is weird. I don't mind of course. I like it better this way.

My parents don't know a thing and they don't care enough about my life to intrude on my privacy. I bet they wouldn't even care if they found out. They were always hoping for a boy anyway, and now they've got one. I'm pretending to be my cousin, whom I miraculously look just like. He abandoned his parents to run off with his girlfriend to District 12. Why they chose District 12 I'll never know. They have nothing to offer.

In any event, I'm proud to say I will be claiming his identity for the rest of the school year, or at least until I get caught. It's a win-win situation. My cousin gets to be with his forbidden love and I get to train the way I should be. They're too soft on the girls, but I know that now I'm at a guys' school, things will be different, and much better. My parents think I'm still going to my other school, so I shouldn't have a problem there.

Adjusting my wig to the perfect position, I walk into the building. All eyes are on me the instant I take a step inside. I get looks of displeasure, annoyance, confusion, and many look like they're about to laugh. So I probably don't look like the most manly guy here, but I hope I can at least pass as one for the time being. The steely glares don't bother me though. I just glare right back at them and that shuts them right up.

With a smirk on my face, I carry my bags, and go over to the front desk. The lady looks up from writing something on a piece of paper in front of her, cocking an eyebrow curiously. Even the staff thinks I'm funny-looking.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, you can. I'm Cleave Tarragon. I'm a new student here," I say in the deepest voice I can without sounding like a creep. I probably still sound kind of girlish, but that's the best I can do.

"Cleave Tarragon," she repeats, looking at her laptop screen, and types a few things. I wait patiently and look around. Guys are still giving me looks, but I'm learning to just ignore it. They'll have to get used to a very female-looking boy around here because I plan on staying for as long as I can.

"Ah! Here we are. Cleave Tarragon. Your room is 211. That's on the second floor. Here are your keys." She hands me a small silver key and I slide it into my pocket.

"Thanks," I say. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Here's your schedule and a map of the academy. You'll need them both," she tells me and gives me both of said papers.

After thanking her again, I gather all of my stuff and head for the elevator. This is going to be one interesting year.

* * *

Thresh turns the music up really loud and Marvel starts jumping on the bed like a maniac. I always wondered why they were never my roommates, but this answers my question clear as crystal. They're my best friends though—just insane ones.

"That's my bed, you know, Marvel."

"Yeah, I know." He keeps jumping anyway and I roll my eyes.

"It's so freaking hot in here," Thresh complains. It is really hot for a September weekend. Then again District 2 always has long summers.

"I'll open a window."

I open one of the two windows in my room, letting a fresh breeze circulate through. Apparently going shirtless doesn't help in this humidity. Though I admit I'd take my shirt off in any weather. It's too much work to put on a new one each and every day. Sometimes my trainer, Brutus lets me because I work up a pretty bad sweat during training.

"Hey! Aren't you getting a new roommate today?" Marvel asks, hopping off my bed.

I just nod. "I think so. That's what the principal told me. His name's Cleave Tarragon."

Marvel and Thresh both laugh. "Nice name," Thresh comments.

As if right on cue, there's a knock on the door. That must be him. I haven't met him yet so I have no idea what he's like. The secretary just placed him with me since I'm about the only one who doesn't have a roommate. My only wish is that he isn't some weirdo who will end up annoying the hell out of me every day because I just can't deal with that. I have enough to worry about as it is.

"Ooh! I bet that's him!" I can tell Marvel is excited. He always likes meeting new people.

I walk over to the door and open it. Expecting some normal guy who's just like me and my friends, I'm surprised to see a boy who can't be more than thirteen years old standing before me, holding way more bags than he can carry. He has a very child-like face with freckles scattered across his cheeks and his hair looks the kind one would only see in the movies. Everything about him just seems so fake that I can hardly believe he's a male. But they wouldn't just let a girl attend, so I'll go with the flow. _Please just don't be a loser. _

"What are you staring at?" he snaps.

I jump back a little, surprised at the cold tone in his voice. "Nothing!" I retort. "Are you supposed to be my roommate, Cleave Tarragon?" When people are rude to me, I don't think twice before retaliating. No one messes with me, not even adolescent boys with puppy faces.

"Yes, I am. Got a problem with that?"

"Not at all. Come on in." I move aside to let Cleave pile in with all his suitcases, which he leaves on the empty bed. He's only been here for a minute and he's already making himself at home. He has that badass attitude I like; so I'll give him that. However, if he begins to mess with me on a regular basis, there will be war, and it won't matter if his muscles are the size of a peanut.

Thresh and Marvel look at him skeptically, as if judging whether or not they should approve of him. They seem to be in the same dilemma I'm facing because right now, I don't know what to think of Cleave.

"This is my bed, right?" Cleave asks me.

"Yeah, that's yours," I reply.

"Good." He begins unpacking all his clothes. His wardrobe seems rather large for him, but I won't make any comment. Maybe if I keep my mouth shut, he'll do the same.

"Is that a _bra?_" Marvel asks in disbelief.

Looking back at Cleave's suitcase, I see him scramble to cover whatever article of clothing Marvel was looking and pointing at. I'm not an expert on women's wardrobe, but it looked like a bra to me. "No! That was just—just a pair of socks."

"Well, that was a _really_ round pair of socks," Marvel comments.

Thresh and I laugh hard. It's true. I don't think any pair of socks would look like that even if someone had the most ridiculously round feet. I'm 99.9% sure Cleave had a bra in her suitcase. I don't even want to know why he has one, but all this tells me is that he's not the guy I was really hoping for as a roommate. There's something different about him—unusual. And if it so helps me, I will find out just what it is.

* * *

**So this is going to be a short story. I'm talking maybe three or four parts. Incase you couldn't already tell, this is inspired after the movie She's the Man. I saw it English class this year and I thought it was funny. Plus, I thought it would be a perfect idea for a Clato fic. I hope you all liked it and go review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for all your feedback! I really take it to heart. In fact, for that one reviewer, I decided to make this a longer story. There's too much I have planned for it to be a short story anyway. Just so you know, I didn't abandon my Hunger Games chat room story either. I'll be working on updating that and this story soon. Well, here you go - second chapter! **

* * *

Yesterday was too close of a call. I really have to be more careful if I'm planning on being here for a while. And I am. I'd go to hell before returning to my all girls' school because quite literally it's a _girls' _school. Apparently females are weak, defenseless, and prissy in their eyes. Well, the fact is, not all of them are. Take me for example. If a guy so much as labels me like a stereotypical girl—fragile and delicate, then I won't hesitate to throw a knife straight for his pretty little head. I won't put up with it. I may be a girl, but that certainly doesn't make me unable to fight or defend myself. That's why I'm here after all—for a more suitable training lifestyle. It shouldn't take me too long to fit right in with all the other boys.

I open my eyes and check the clock on my bedside table. It's 6:50 and training starts at 7. If I don't hurry, I'm going to be late. I thought I set the alarm for 6:15 last night. Didn't I?

Turning over, I find that my roommate, Cato is already gone. He must have woken up on time and left a while ago. I stand up and readjust the tight strip of cloth I've been using to keep my chest flat. It's an uncomfortable disadvantage, but the pain is worth it. It'll help me stay tough and macho anyway. On Cato's bedside table is a little sticky note attached to his own alarm clock. Curious, I pick it up and read it.

**Dear Cleave, **

**A little rat told me he unplugged your alarm clock last night. Oh, and he also said to remind you not to forget your bra socks before training. You're gonna need them. **

**Happy Monday,**

**Cato**

That asshole! I've caused him no trouble in the few hours we've been sharing a room and he has the nerve to pull a ridiculous and immature prank on me. Sure he's hardheaded and probably as stubborn as I am, but I didn't think he could be so childish. The funny thing is, he does it as if he thinks it will go un-avenged. Unfortunately for him, that's where he's dead wrong. I'm Clove—well, Cleave Tarragon and I _will _get revenge. He can count on that.

Gathering my equipment, I check myself in the mirror to make sure I'm manly enough before going to the training center. Wig? Check. Large shirt? Check. Flat chest? Check. Sideburns? Check. Dumbass attitude? Hopefully check. I'm all good to go.

I grab my schedule and map of the academy then head out the door. As I walk down the hallway, I play out a few ideas of getting revenge on Cato in my mind. It has to be something humiliating, not a lame joke like unplugging an alarm clock. No. This has to be big. I'm talking shoving an ice cube down his pants or shaving his head big. Whatever it is, it has to be in front of the whole school. We'll just see who Mr. Pretty Boy is then.

All the guys are staring at me—more like giving dirty looks, but to be honest, I'm used to it. I bet any girl would kill to be me right now. Me, on the other hand, can't wait until I get to training where it won't be as bad. At least I won't have nearly half the school with all eyes on me. I loathe being center of attention, another trait I posses that most girls don't. Put me under the spotlight and I will either strangle who made me do so or run right offstage, preferably the first one though.

Glancing at the map, I try to figure out what room I'm supposed to go in. Then suddenly, I run into someone and drop all of my stuff.

"Hey! Watch where you're—" I stop, realizing that I forgot to use my male voice. I look up to see who was in my way. He's a man I'm not a good judge of character but the formal suit and tie with slicked back hair tells me he's someone important, possibly the principal or head of the academy. "—going."

The man cocks an eyebrow at me and crosses his arms. I'm in deep trouble and it's only my first day. So far, I'm not off to a very good start.

I clear my throat and pick up my equipment that's scattered across the floor. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see you there." His expression is stern and I can tell I made him really mad. Either that or he's disturbed by my feminine appearance.

The man who I'm taking to be the head remains quiet for a few moments. I'm starting to wonder if this guy is a robot or something of that nature because he's still as stone and doesn't move a muscle. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, he starts laughing uncontrollably. I look around to see what triggered it, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.

"You must be the new student! "He throws up his arms excitedly. "Cleave Tarragon?" This is not at all what I was expecting from the principal of a strict male, training academy. I wonder whom he had to pay for this job.

"Um, yes." His unexpected attitude is still registering in my head. "That's me."

"Excellent! Excellent!" He chuckles and shakes my hand enthusiastically. "My name is Mr. Mason. Pleased to meet you, Cleave."

"Nice to meet you, too." I only just notice now that I'm being too polite for a guy. When I'm around other girls, I'd easily be chosen as the tomboy and the one who acts most like a boy. But compared to other boys, I must be pretty girly. I still need some more practice. I think I'm getting there though. The hardest part is the voice. It's more difficult than you think to sound like an actual man.

Mr. Mason beams at me; it's kind of uncomfortable. "So how are you liking Stonewall Academy, Mr. Tarragon?"

"Well, umm…" I clear my throat. I need to sound lower. "I've only been here for a night, but it's good so far."

"Excellent! Excellent!"

I'm starting to think the word 'excellent' is his motto. He reminds me of one of those overly enthusiastic game show hosts—the kind that are a pain in the ass to listen to. Of course, I'm not in a position to judge there. I never watch game shows. I only see them when I'm flipping through channels to find a good show to watch.

"Well, I better get to class." I'm going to be late if I'm not already. I took up half of my time just fixing my wig and making sure I look just like a boy, though not the most brawny one. I need an excuse to get away from this guy before we get into a long tedious conversation, and this just happens to be a valid one.

I start walking down the hallway, but Mr. Mason stops me. "When you're done with classes, come stop by my office so we can have a chat." He gives me what I'm guessing is supposed to be a friendly smile, but it's more like a devious one that you see in a horror film. That's not exactly reassuring. But I smile back anyways and nod then rush to the training room, entering through the doorway just as the bell rings.

* * *

The bell rings and our trainer, Brutus claps his hands together. "Okay, let's get started then. Everyone go to their stations and begin training. I'll be watching all of you so don't even bother slacking off or making excuses."

With Thresh and Marvel, I go over to the sword station and take out my sword from my equipment bag. I was hoping Cleave would be here so I could see his reaction about what I did to him this morning. I thought he was in this training session, but I don't see him anywhere. Maybe he switched out or he's late. In either case, he's my roommate so I'll be seeing him eventually.

"Where's Cleave?" Marvel asks, as if reading my thoughts.

"Yeah, wasn't he in this class?" Thresh asks.

I shrug, taking another look around. "Guess not anymore. He probably chickened out."

They both laugh and just then, Cleave comes running in the door and trips over one of his bags, landing flat on his face. Everyone laughs at him, including me, and he shoots us an angry glare. He definitely saw the sticky note I left on his clock. There's no doubt about it.

Brutus holds up his arms dismissively. "Alright! That's enough! Get to work, all of you."

We all go back to what we were doing and he walks over to Cleave and talks to him. Brutus hates weaklings, so I imagine he's not going to be too fond of Cleave. He's not exactly the fittest guy around.

After a few minutes, Cleave wanders over to where Thresh, Marvel, and I are. If he's about to tell me that he has to train with us that someone is going to be stabbed.

"What's he doing here?" Thresh whispers.

"No idea," Marvel whispers back. I cross my arms as he approaches and stops in front of us. He looks pretty pissed off, and if I had to take a guess, I think I know why. I still can't get over how short he looks. He doesn't seem old enough to be in an advanced academy like this one. He has to be thirteen at the most. There's just no way he can be any older. Not only that, but his freckles and feminine features tell me he hasn't been through puberty yet.

"Hello, gents," Cleave greets us coolly, mimicking my gesture.

"Cleave," Thresh says.

"I'm assuming you got my note this morning." I smirk and Marvel laughs. I have to admit, it was a pretty simple prank for me. Normally, I go above and beyond pulling expulsion-worthy jokes on anyone who gets on my bad side, and that happens a lot. It doesn't take much to make me mad. When you do, it isn't good news.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did," Cleave says through clenched teeth. It's just the reaction I was hoping for. At least he has teenage angst. Maybe he's not a twelve year old after all.

I smile. "Good. Good. So I take it you're training with us?"

"Apparently I have to," Cleave retorts.

Marvel and Thresh look at each other with widened eyes. Apparently Cleave's bitter attitude surprised them. Well, it didn't surprise me. From the moment he stepped into my room, I knew he was going to be a jerk. If only he didn't have to be my roommate.

"Alright, smart Alec. Show us what you've got," I say. This has to be good. Cleave doesn't know a thing about weaponry or combat skills. He's going to make a fool of himself yet again.

He grabs a knife out of his equipment bag. "Fine. I will," he spits in my face then walks over to the targets, standing a good thirty feet away from them. At this point, the whole class stops to watch him. They all want to see him embarrass himself; it's quality entertainment at its best. Cleave turns around so he's facing away from the targets and turns around rapidly, the knife flying right out of his hand. It moves with the speed of a dart, hitting the precise center in a loud thud.

Everyone is utterly speechless and my jaw drops open. Then suddenly, they all clap for him, including Thresh and Marvel and pick him up in the air cheering for him.

"Cleave! Cleave! Cleave!" they chant.

This isn't over yet.

* * *

**Well, I hope you all liked this chapter. I initially had something else planned for it, but I decided to push it to the next one. I really love writing this story, which is another reason why I decided to make it longer. So go and review! Leave me all your amazing thoughts and suggestions for next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, finally! Here's chapter three! I just want to thank everyone for all your reviews. I love hearing your feedback and it makes me happy to know you still like/read this story. I'll try to update again soon!**

* * *

I wasn't kidding when I promised revenge on Cleave. He obviously showed off on purpose, and chances are, that was just a lucky shot. There's no way a puny pre-adolescent boy like him can really throw a knife like that. It defies all logic. I'm going to get to the bottom of him and his little secret, whatever it is. Mark my words. And today, I might just have the perfect plan for that.

The lunch lady slops a pile of god-knows-what on to my plate. Don't get me wrong—I love the academy, but you'd think they would have a better catering system. It's the best school in the district. Not to mention the lunch ladies are sour as lemons. No matter how hard you try, you can't make them laugh. I speak from legitimate experience.

One day, Thresh and I thought it would be funny to stick a 'kick me' sign on the back of Marvel's shirt. Marvel's our friend, but he's really easy to manipulate or pull pranks on because he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. So naturally, he didn't notice the entire day—until lunch, that is. That's when Thresh and I realized we probably took things a little too far.

The three of us stood in line with our trays, Marvel ahead of me and Thresh. We kept silently snickering to ourselves about the little sticky note posted on his back. No one had actually kicked him yet, but the day was still young.

We got our wish when a huge guy from our training group passed by and saw it. He stopped and read it out loud, "'Kick me…' Well, all right. If you insist."

Before we could stop him, he kicked Marvel in the back, but not hard enough to be considered emergency-room-worthy. Marvel groaned in pain, holding his hand on the spot where he was kicked. At that point, the whole lunch room was laughing. No one, not even the lunch ladies, bothered to ask what was wrong or rush to help him. But they didn't laugh either. They stood there in silence, wearing their trademark poker faces, and waited for the next person to hold out their tray.

So, I guess you could say they're a bit heartless. I wonder if they were hired on purpose solely for that reason. Here, at the academy, we're trained to be stern and let nothing stand in our way and never show any weaknesses. It's harsh when you're first starting out, but once you get the hang of it, it's actually kind of fun, especially when you're the trainer's favorite. Well, one of them at least.

Brutus's other favorite just happens to be the guy who kicked Marvel in the ass-Viktor. But besides the obvious strength and ability to kill anything in his path, I don't see what's the big deal about him. His brain is thinner than a toothpick, and that's even worse than Marvel. If you're going to be a good fighter, you need skill, not just strength, and unfortunately for him, he's lacking in the skill area. He's so stupid that he'll pick up a club fast enough to hit himself in the head with it. But does Brutus give a damn? No. I swear, if Viktor wasn't around, I would be the top of the class all by myself, no competition. Thresh and Marvel are pretty high up there though.

After grabbing a few napkins and a plastic fork for whatever this glop is, I carry my tray over to where Thresh and Marvel, and a few other guys from our class are sitting. Thankfully, Viktor isn't here yet. All he does at lunch is show off, and really, what is there to boast about besides the fact he's the size of a blue whale? The only thing worse than having Viktor sit with us would be Cleave. It hasn't even been a week, but the guy is driving me nuts, and I have the right to judge since I'm the one sharing a room the little punk. It's like he tries to annoy me; I hate it. Although, I have to admit he's improved from the first day he arrived. He seems to be getting used to the academy. I'm still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

As if right on cue, Cleave slides in between me and Thresh. "Hey, guys!" he says in that awkwardly high-pitched voice of his. How can he be seventeen and still sound like a pipsqueak?

"Hey, Cleave…" Thresh says none too enthusiastically.

"What brings you here?" Marvel asks.

Cleave looks at him skeptically, as if wondering why he would ask such a question. "What do you mean? I'm here to hang out with my main men!" He throws his arms around Thresh and I. We flash each other understanding looks. Everyone else at the table stops what they're doing and looks at us questioningly. I can read their minds: 'Dude, why are you friends with _him?_' Well, I don't really have a choice. He's my roommate. I may be able to avoid him during the school day, but I can't for the rest of the night. I'm stuck with him.

"Ha ha! Very funny, dude." Cleave punches him playfully in the arm then takes a spoonful of the glop. It only takes him a second before he spits it out, disgusted. "What the hell is this stuff?"

"Whoa!" I look at him with widened eyes. "You just sounded really girl there for a second."

This seems to make him nervous because he stutters. "Huh? What? No! I just have a really high-pitched voice when I eat something gross."

"Okay…" I'm still not convinced but a shake it off and stare down at the glop on my tray. No way in hell am I eating this stuff. Who knows what's in it? If I had to take a guess, I'd say cow manure because that's what it smells like.

Glancing across the table, I catch one guy take a bite of it. I almost cringe just watching it. Normally, I'm not this squeamish, but this stuff is just plain gross. I don't see why anyone would want to eat it.

Since there's nothing else edible, I take a bite out of an apple. For a few minutes, the table is silent. It's not usually like this, but whenever Cleave sits with us, it is. It's plain to see that no one likes him or thinks he's 'cool.' But really, who wouldn't think that? He looks and acts like a twelve year old besides the strangely accurate knife skills. I still have to figure out where he's getting that from.

"So Cleave," I begin and he looks at me. "Where did you learn your incredible knife skills?"

Now all eyes are on Cleave and I. Not everyone at the table is in the same training session as us, so they must think I'm crazy for saying such a thing.

"What do you mean?" Cleave asks.

"You throw a knife pretty well," I say, and he seems taken aback by my compliment. It's not in my nature to say nice things, so I make that clear by adding, "I mean for a girl."

This infuriates him. He pushes himself up from the table and glowers at me like there are daggers in his piercing hazel eyes. "WHAT DID YOU SAY, VULCAN?"

I look at him eyes-wide. Cleave can get pretty moody, especially when we're alone in our dorm, but I've never seen him his angry or upset before. What's the big deal? It was just a joke.

"Calm down, man! It was a joke."

"He was just kidding, Cleave," Thresh defends me, but I don't need any help if things fly south. I outweigh Cleave by nearly one hundred pounds.

"Yeah, I'm sure he was!" he spits. "Is that how you always talk about women? Because I can assure you girls are very good fighters, too. It's not just guys! In fact, my sister could probably fight ten times better than you can!"

"Ooh!" all the guys pipe in simultaneously.

I shoot them all glares to shut them up then I stand up and meet Cleave's gaze; we're face to face only inches apart.

"I'd like to meet her. Then we can really see who's the better fighter, Tarragon."

* * *

What have I gotten myself into? I shouldn't have been so defensive. It's just it really seemed like he was in fact referring to me as a girl. That would ruin everything. I wouldn't be able to come back. I'd be shunned at my other school and at home, not that I care. I always go too far when I'm defensive, and it finally paid off. I don't really have a sister, but if 'she' doesn't show up to fight Cato, he's going to think I was lying, and I certainly don't need him laughing at me again. It's my turn to be the last one laughing. And I have the perfect plan to do so.

I grab my set of knives and head to the training room. The fight, in which the news has already been spread all over campus, is this weekend. That should give me plenty of time to think the whole thing out.

Brutus glances over at me as I enter; everyone else has already started. Why is it that I'm always late even though I arrive on time? Maybe I should start coming early.

"There you are, Cleave." He pats me on the back. Brutus seems fond of me because of my 'extraordinary knife skills,' but I think it's just because he's never seen such a small guy do things like that. So, maybe he doesn't _like _me per say, but he's merely _interested _in me. "You can go ahead and start."

I nod and head over to the area where I usually train. I unsheathe my knives and turn away from the targets. Taking a deep breath, I whip around and throw all of the blades one by one, each of them hitting the direct center of the target. I can't help but smile to myself. I never miss—I never have, and never will. Knife-throwing just comes naturally to me.

"Nice," I hear someone say. I turn around rapidly to see Cato standing there with a smug look on his face, his arms crossed. I narrow my eyes, glaring at him.

"You wish you could do that," I snap.

"Yeah, you're right. I do," he says sarcastically with a smirk.

"You're just jealous."

"Sure I am."

He gets on every single nerve in my body. Couldn't I have had a different roommate? He's selfish, greedy, cocky, cruel, and on top of everything, Cato Vulcan is just a plain asshole.

"So did you just come here to make fun of me?" I ask, mimicking his gesture.

"Precisely," he says.

I roll my eyes and retrieve my knives, but he follows me. What does this guy want? I'm starting to think he just likes to annoy me; it's a hobby of his. I wish he would find someone else to bother because I'm actually starting to dislike him even more, and I didn't even think that was possible.

Just then, a ditzy-looking blonde girl comes running into the training room, arms open wide. "Cato!"

I look from her to Cato as she wraps her arms around him in a tight hug. I half expect Cato to push her off of him. He doesn't seem like the type of guy who likes hugs. But instead, he just holds her arms and smiles at the mysterious girl.

"Hey, babe."

Babe?

"Who's this?" I ask curiously.

Cato seems satisfied, like he wanted me to ask that question. "This is my girlfriend, Glimmer."

* * *

**A/N: Oh, god. This can't be good. I bet you all weren't expecting Glimmer to show up in this story, but there you go. Aren't cliffhangers the best? How do you think Clove is going to react to all of this? Well, that's it for this chapter. Don't forget to review! If you don't, Clove will throw her sharpest knife at you. **


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